


Revelations in the Three Broomsticks

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28261137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Harry and Draco are supposed to be trying to get along. They seem to be quite good at it!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	Revelations in the Three Broomsticks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jesseabi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesseabi/gifts).



> Jesseabi, your prompts were so fun! I took fluff, eighth year, deep talks and late nights conversations, friendships and getting together, and healing and understanding and kind of smushed them together. I hope you like it!

"What are you drinking?"

Shifting on the bench seat in the back of the Three Broomsticks, Draco frowned. There was no glass before him. Turning to see Potter standing beside the booth with an expectant expression, his frown deepened.

"Nothing?" he responded, waving his hand to indicate the table. "I only just got here."

Potter, the bastard, grinned. "No, Malfoy, I meant what do you _want_ to drink? My shout."

"Oh." Draco blinked as confusion rushed through him. "Ah, a hot chocolate. Thanks."

He watched as Potter nodded and moved off towards the bar. It had been a strange year so far. Putting aside the whole 'destruction of the Dark Lord' thing at the start, it seemed to be ending with an attempt to make friends with Potter.

This whole thing had not been Draco's idea. In fact, both he and Potter had seemed quite content to stay as hostile towards each other as they ever had been when they had both restarted their seventh year at Hogwarts. After some incredibly strong suggestions from both Headmistress McGonagall and Minister Shacklebolt, however, they had agreed to try to make nice. 'For the sake of the school', and all that rot. Draco was unsure of how well it was really going, but he, at least, was making an effort.

"Here you go." A large, steaming mug thunked down on the table before him, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. "You can grab the next one."

Draco nodded silently, watching as Potter slid into the booth across from him and wriggled until he was settled. The first few times they had attempted a meet-up like this had not gone well. In fact, Draco was fairly certain he had almost gotten himself hexed on numerous occasions. The point, though, he figured, was that they had tried again. And again. They had actually tried multiple times over the past couple of months to find some kind of common ground. There seemed to only be one major thing they had in common, however: Quidditch.

"Puddlemere is kicking arse again."

Draco smiled. "Yes, but they can't be on top forever. There has to be some point in time when they fall."

"Not really." Potter removed the cinnamon stick from his chocolate and waved it towards Draco, splattering chocolate on the table. "There's been Muggle football and basketball teams who have stayed on the top of the table for years. All it takes is the best players."

"Oh, _all_ it takes is the best players, really?" Draco flicked a piece of chocolate from his side of the table back towards Potter. "Is that all? _Just_ the best players?"

"You know what? People tell me I'm too sarcastic. I bet they've never met _you_."

Potter was still waving the cinnamon stick. Draco watched as tiny flecks of chocolate – both melted and in milk form – flew over the table. He shook his head.

"What you are is a mess, Potter." Reaching to the end of the table, he grabbed a napkin and tossed it in Potter's direction. "Clean up."

The grin Potter offered had Draco shaking his head again. He accepted the napkin, however, and swiped it over the table a couple of times.

"How's your holidays looking?"

Draco turned his attention to his drink. "Quiet. We usually go out as a family to the vineyard, or the chateau, but we can't this year."

" _Shit_. Sorry. Stupid of me to ask."

Draco shook his head. "No, it's a natural thing to ask this time of year. And it's not like you were the one who imposed the restrictions on my family." In fact, it had been Potter's testimony in front of the Wizengamot that had kept both Draco and his father out of Azkaban, he was sure of it. "What about you? Are you going back to those Muggles you live with?"

When Potter didn't respond immediately, Draco glanced up. He still held the napkin, but it was now tightly scrunched in his fist. Draco frowned.

"Potter?"

"I'm pretty sure that I will never go back there again, now that I am legally allowed to choose."

The tone to his voice hadn't changed one bit, but his posture told Draco that this was a sensitive subject. Still, his curiosity was piqued.

"May I ask…?"

"Why I wouldn't want to see my own family at Christmas? Yeah, I guess." Potter straightened up, stretching his shoulders before settling back down. He met Draco's eyes with no hesitation. "They made me live in the cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven."

Draco's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"They own a two-storey house. You know how there's a little storage cupboard beneath the stairs that lead up?" He waited until Draco nodded silently. "Well, until I was eleven years old and started receiving the letters from Hogwarts that told me I had a place there, that is where I lived."

Draco blinked. "Under the stairs."

Potter nodded. "Yeah. There were other things as well, like making me cook and clean. And my cousin Dudley. He was allowed to treat me however he wanted." Shifting in his seat, Potter shoved his glasses up his nose. "He was the school bully. He used to beat on various people, but I was his favourite. Guess I was convenient."

Shrugging as he trailed off, Potter returned his attention to his drink. Draco could only stare in shock. A _cupboard_. Under the fucking _stairs_. What the _hell_ kind of person would do that to a child?

"Sorry. I, ah, don't…"

Draco trailed off. What _did_ you say when someone made that kind of revelation? It seemed that Potter didn't need him to say anything, however.

"It's alright. You couldn't have known. And besides," he raised his head, a small smile crossing his face. "It's much better now, anyway. I get to choose who I do and don't want in my life."

The conversation drifted off towards much safer topics after that, but what Potter had said stayed with Draco. Even as he was getting ready for bed that night, the words kept coming back to him, and not just the revelation about his living situation, either.

_I get to choose who I do and don't want in my life._

These words in particular had stuck with Draco. Potter could choose who he wanted to interact with, and who he didn't. And, considering they were to meet up in the Three Broomsticks again the next afternoon, Draco had to assume that _he_ was one of the ones Potter chose to have in his life.

*~*

Nerves fluttered through Harry's stomach as he waited for Malfoy to arrive. His hands clenched and unclenched on the tabletop as he waited. He didn't know whether he had scared Malfoy away the previous day by revealing a little bit of his past. No one else seemed to mind that he had come from such a strange family. But the Malfoys were different, he reasoned. Maybe–

"Sorry I'm late."

Harry jumped, Malfoy's sudden appearance across the table from him startling him. He hadn't seen him enter the pub, which was quiet enough that he would have noticed. Glancing around, he frowned.

"Did I scare you, Potter? You look like a stunned fish."

"I, er, yeah. I didn't see you enter?"

Malfoy's responding smirk sent something else entirely fluttering through Harry's stomach. He cleared his throat and ducked his head.

"Now that I can legally Apparate, I see no reason to trudge through all that snow to get here."

"Oh, right, yeah." Harry glanced down to his own feet, which were covered in muck from outside. Frowning again, he decided to change the subject. "How about a drink, then?"

He was about to push his way out of the booth when Malfoy held up a hand. Harry plopped back down onto the bench as Malfoy stood.

"My treat this time. You got the last, remember?" When Harry nodded, Malfoy smiled. "Hot chocolate?"

Harry nodded again. He watched Malfoy move off to the bar. As Malfoy walked, Harry allowed his eyes to drift slowly downwards.

When Kingsley and McGonagall had first approached him about trying to make things up with Malfoy 'as an example to the rest of the school', he had been dubious. He hadn't seen how it could be possible for the two of them to get along. How wrong he had been.

They weren't _friends_ , exactly. Not in the way Harry was friends with Ron and Hermione, anyway. Malfoy was… Harry coughed. Malfoy had just leant on the bar to speak to Rosmerta, giving Harry the perfect view of his arse.

_Yummy. He is yummy._

Forcing his attention back to the table, Harry frowned. No, Malfoy was not _yummy_. He wasn't allowed to be, in any sense of the word. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

"Here you go. One hot chocolate. Cinnamon stick included."

Harry grinned. "Thanks."

Grabbing the cinnamon stick, he began to stir the drink, giving himself time to sort out what he had just been thinking about. His interest in Malfoy was not reciprocated, so he had to stop himself from thinking things like that, it was as simple as that. Clearing his throat, he glanced up to see Malfoy watching him, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"What? Never seen anyone use a cinnamon stick as a stirring stick before?"

"Not someone who manages to spill the chocolate all over the table."

Frowning, Harry glanced down again. Sure enough, he had managed to spill the chocolate on the table again. Sighing, he reached for a napkin, but was stopped when Malfoy offered one before he could move.

"Thanks," he muttered as he began cleaning the spill. Malfoy was still watching him when he finished, causing Harry to roll his shoulders. To distract himself further, he brought up a topic Malfoy had seemed comfortable enough with the previous day. "So, tell me something. What's Christmas like at your place usually?"

The surprised look he received had Harry smiling. Malfoy always seemed shocked when Harry asked about him and his home life.

"Well… I would normally head off to either Italy or France with my parents." Malfoy's voice was low, almost as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. "The family owns a vineyard in Italy. It produces wine that is sold here in the UK. I believe my mother likes it there because the winters are milder. And, while France does get snow, it's… Well, it's _prettier_ than here. It's different. Who cares if it's snowing if you're sitting in front of a fire in a cosy chateau in France?"

Harry smiled. When Malfoy spoke of his family, his usually cold, grey eyes came alive. There was currently a sparkle to them that Harry had never seen before, and it sent the same kind of flutters through his stomach as Malfoy's smirk did.

"It's just the three of you?"

Malfoy seemed to consider this for a few seconds. "Well, my parents will occasionally have friends over after Christmas Day. People they want to impress if we're in Italy, and closer friends if we're in France. I am allowed to invite friends as well, but only for the New Year's celebrations." He paused to clear his throat, a slight tinge of pink entering his cheeks. "Mother has always said that when I find 'someone special', they will, of course, be invited along as well."

Harry's heart thudded against his ribs. "And you haven't found anyone yet?"

Licking his lips, he hoped against hope that Malfoy would say no. Not that it would make a difference, he told himself firmly, because this wasn't what his hormones were telling him it was. When Malfoy shook his head, Harry had to restrain his smile.

"No." Malfoy glanced up to meet Harry's eyes. "Not yet, anyway."

*~*

The train station at Hogsmeade was as crowded as ever as Draco stepped onto the platform. School kids spilled out of doors and hung out of windows, all shouting goodbyes to each other until the New Year. He shook his head. It wasn't like they were all going to be separated for months on end; it was just the winter holidays, after all. Ducking his head, he attempted to press through the crowds.

"Malfoy!"

Nerves hit Draco in the gut before he recognised the voice. He was still a little wary whenever he was called to in a public place, despite not having been attacked like the other confirmed Death Eaters had been. He turned in a circle, searching for Potter.

"Malfoy! Over here!"

A waving hand over the heads of a group of third-years was Draco's only hint at where Potter could be. Pushing through the crowd, he couldn't help scowling.

"You don’t look happy."

Shooting a nearby first-year a glare, Draco sighed. "I don't recall ever being that short and annoying."

Potter's responding laugh had Draco smiling. Another flash of his usual nerves hit him as he returned his attention fully to Potter. Just _why_ he should still be this nervous about speaking to Potter was beyond him. He chose to ignore the sensation, however, as Potter regained control over himself.

"You were _always_ that annoying, Malfoy, believe me."

Potter began to laugh again when Draco frowned. Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco tried to prevent another smile.

"Is that why you called me over here, Potter? To insult me?"

Potter sobered almost immediately. Draco could have sworn he saw a hint of colour to his cheeks before he glanced quickly away.

"Er, no. I actually wanted to give you something."

Draco's stomach dropped. He hadn't thought that they were at the Christmas-gift-giving stage of their friendship, if you could even call it _that_.

"I, uh–"

He was prevented from continuing when Potter held up a hand. "Please, just – just let me do this, alright? I'm nervous enough as it is without you interrupting me."

Before Draco could even think of ignoring the request and speaking again, Potter rose up onto his toes and planted a kiss directly on Draco's lips. It lasted less than a second and when Potter pulled away, he was _definitely_ blushing.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

Potter then proceeded to walked away, heading towards the train at a faster pace than Draco would have thought possible in a crowd that size. When Draco's mind caught up with what had just happened, Potter had boarded the train.

His entire body buzzed with… He didn't even know. He was nervous, excited, confused, maybe even a little horny. Whatever it was he was feeling, he knew one thing: he couldn't allow Potter to get away. Pushing through the group of third-years, he ignored the ones that he saw land on the ground. Draco boarded the train and began to search.

Potter wasn't in the first two carriages. Shoving the door to the third carriage open, he thought he caught a snatch of conversation in a familiar voice. Taking long strides, he glanced into each of the compartments in turn before _finally_ finding Potter in the very last one.

"Potter."

"Malfoy?"

Potter's face was still pink. He glanced nervously at the other occupants in the compartment, but Draco ignored the lot of them.

"May I speak with you? Out here? _Alone_."

There were objections, as Draco had figured there would be. Potter managed to extricate himself, however, with none of his hangers-on.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not going to apologise, I–"

Draco shut him up by pulling him close and kissing him. _Properly_ this time. It was slow, and soft, and made Potter moan against Draco's lips, just as a first kiss should. Draco was smiling when he pulled back.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."


End file.
